


Hands Touching Hands

by icewhisper



Series: Leonard Snart Shorts [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Turncoat AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: Len survives the Oculus. Some things go a little differently once a maybe has a chance to become something.





	Hands Touching Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of my writing blog, [leonardsnartwrites](https://leonardsnartwrites.tumblr.com/). Normally, it would have been posted under the collections fic, [Leonard Snart Shorts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10837056).
> 
> Anonymous prompt: #CaptainCanary The events of 2x11 but Leonard is there and he and Sara have been dating for a while cause the Oculus never happened.

Some days, Len was still convinced his reaction time was still off. His right hand had felt foreign after Gideon reconstructed it, fumbling fingers and missing scars. A tattoo that had at one point taken up most of his forearm cut off suddenly just above his wrist, the boot with its knife—a bastardized figure skate, because Lisa was graceful, but deadly—slashed through near the toe. Vanished. Gone.

Mick grumbled that he’d get it fixed eventually, that he was too neurotic to let it stay incomplete like that. He was right, but Len didn’t mention that he was more concerned about his hand than his ink.

His left arm became the bigger issue after the Oculus when Sara—refusing to leave him behind—froze his entire arm and shattered it at the shoulder. Mick had to be slapped awake so that he could carry Len out while Len struggled—and failed—to not black out from the pain.

(He threw up all over Sara. They didn’t talk about it.)

(She kissed him while Gideon reconstructed his arm. They did talk about that.)

They survived. They saved Kendra and Carter before they said goodbye to them and they added new team members. They kept surviving, even if they lost Rip along the way. Sara stepped up as captain in a move that humbled Stein and didn’t surprise Len a bit, but she did hand flying duties off to Mick after he complained about her landings too much.

The team worked. They were still a member down with Rip missing, but they managed to keep themselves alive. Nate became some kind of real-life version of Colossus. Ray lost his suit and had some kind of existential crisis that made Len ache for a drink.

Len sat the entire damn team down for an exciting conversation about mental illness one day when the comments about Mick went too far. It spiraled into Sara shutting herself away and talks of PTSD that stayed private. The team didn’t need to see how he gathered her in his arms or the way she clung to him.

None of them talked about how a quiet relationship that was more implied than confirmed meant Sara had weaseled her way onto the short list of people Len let touch him.

It turned into habit for her to squeeze his left hand quickly before a mission, like she was checking the limb’s strength. Gideon swore up and down that he was fine, that she had reconstructed the limb to the condition it was in when he lost it, but it still didn’t feel like his. They’d all watched him fumble more than someone with his skills should, but Sara and Mick were the only ones to see him lose his temper about it.

She came around to give his hand a squeeze after they got dressed—he _hated_ 1776 fashion—and he shot her a tiny smile as he returned it. His hand shook in hers, more out of a weakness he didn’t like admitting to than to fear, because he wasn’t scared. He stopped being scared of death in the dark days he and Mick didn’t talk about.

“You good?” she asked softly as Jax very pointedly averted his eyes to give them some kind of privacy. He let the kid do it, even if nothing was going to happen in view of the team.

He hummed as he dropped her hand and laced his own fingers together to try and work the kinks out of them. “I’ve got it.”

 

 

He didn’t have it.

Rip was working with the Legion and he shouldn’t have been all that surprised. They’d found him and lost him again and he’d known Rip would show up again eventually. He should have guessed it would be with the bad guys, less because he thought Rip could go evil—though, he still didn’t like the guy that much—and more because nothing ever went right. Some days, he was still convinced the Time Masters were still using the Oculus to fuck with them.

His brain stuttered to a stop—had Gideon had to reconstruct that too, because it wasn’t working right—and they were yelling and trying to understand what was happening when Rip…

He should have raised his own gun. He should have shot him, because former teammate or not, Rip was pointing his gun at Sara.

He didn’t.

His hands didn’t move fast enough, weak fingers brushing against his holster. His legs moved faster, stepping between in ways he’d always told Mick to stop doing.

The bullet ripped into him as someone screamed. Pain. Warm blood spreading on his clothes. His legs went out from under him while his brain tried to assess the situation. He was taller than Sara, but he was standing in front of her. Trajectory and angles and he thought it hit him somewhere in the lower stomach, but he couldn’t seem to make his hands work.

Sara was there, pale-faced and eyes shining, but tears weren’t falling. He could see the lines in her forehead, anger and fear and betrayal and _why_ , as her fingers twisted through his. He squeezed back as hard as he could.

“Go,” he coughed out as pain tore through him. Rip had disappeared and Sara… “Get him.” Save him. Kill him. Whatever she had to do. “I’m good.”

“Liar,” she whispered, but she let Mick scoop him up—those proportions would never work _right_ , but well enough. “Take care of him.”

“Don’t gotta tell me, Blondie.”

 

 

He woke up in the med bay with fuzzy memories, pain meds, and Sara’s tear-stained face hovering over his. Mick was standing over her shoulder, eyes too serious and fingers twitching like he needed his lighter.

“Boss,” Mick grunted, but Len could hear the relief in his voice. He didn’t cry. Mick never cried, but he gave a firm nod before he led a shaky Jax out of the room.

“What do you remember?” Sara asked when the door slid shut.

“Mick needs to stop carrying me bridal style,” he muttered around a sore throat, because that was the last thing that came to mind. There were foggy memories of the ship and pressure before he thought he passed out, but nothing that he could make sense of.

“Rip got on the ship,” she told him. “Jax was here. You…” She pulled in a breath that shook a little too much and squeezed his hand like it was a lifeline. “He killed you.”

Len’s eyes widened, heart pounding in his chest. Questions rose up in his throat, but Sara looked like she was an inch away from either shattering or going after Rip. Not the time. Not now. He could wait to get the details until the tremor had left Sara’s hands.

He gave her hand a squeeze and didn’t mention when her returning one made his bones grind.

The End


End file.
